Dear Sushi,

It was hard saying goodbye, but not nearly as hard as not having you there to greet me in the morning. We were usually the first ones up; I’d get out of bed to let you out. And now you’re not there with me.

You’re not there at the top of the stairs when I come home from work.

You’re not there under the table, hoping to catch a bit of food when we’re eating dinner.

You’re not there looking at me from the deck when I walk back from tidying up something in the yard.

You’re not there when I finish my shower, waiting to be let out one more time before we head to bed.

And when I reach to pat your little head one last time before I go to bed, you’re not there.

I miss you, little buddy. It wasn’t always easy, and I wasn’t always the best dog owner, but I do miss you. I miss you a lot.

The last few months were hard. I hope you can rest now.

I love you.

(Sushi was diagnosed with cardiac hemangiosarcoma back in January. He underwent several rounds of chemo. Ultimately, the cancer took its course, and he began losing the ability to eat and stand. He was put to sleep on August 21 to end his suffering. He passed peacefully in Yuling’s arms, surrounded by his family.)